Crazy
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: At the end of any nightmare, real or not, he is always there for her. And that is all the reassurance she needs.


_She hears them before she sees them. The deafening sound of boots stomping the snow covered ground fills the air, seems to make the castle itself shake on its foundations. She looks out of her window, and she knows; it's the English, and they've come for her. They've finally come for her. Their footsteps echo louder as they get closer and closer to the castle, fear sending chills down her spine. Even the air seems colder, thicker. She's alone in her bedchambers and all her body, her very blood begins to beat to the same rhythm: find Francis, find Francis. The English are coming and she needs to leave and God, everyone in the castle is in danger and she needs to get to her husband._

_Her feet feel heavy as lead as she runs through the maze of corridors. Somehow she can't run fast enough despite how hard she tries. Her legs feel dull and uncoordinated and the hallways seem endless, every second that passes her fear only grows, and all along she can hear the thump, thump, thump of the enemies' boots getting closer and louder and she still hasn't found Francis._

_Finally, mercifully, at the end of a long corridor there's Greer, and she forces her legs to go faster but it's so slow, her feet sink in the ground and the corridor grows longer but she at last reaches her friend, whose face is set in a pleasant smile._

_"__Greer! It's the English! They're coming, you need to leave!" She exclaims, grabbing her friend by the shoulders, trying to get a reaction out of her. But it seems that she doesn't hear her at all, for her face remains untroubled with a gentle smile. "Greer have you seen Francis? Please, I need to find him!" She pleads desperately but Greer just smiles kindly as she answers._

_"__But Mary, what do you mean? If here he comes." She says calmly, pointing her finger to the window and Mary runs there. And sure enough, she can see him. There he is, with the English. His golden hair shining in the sun, his cold blue eyes open to the morning light, blood running down the pike that holds his severed head._

She's not there anymore, but in a warm bed, screaming. And once she realizes it, all she can do is call out is his name.

"Francis!" She reaches for him on the bed and her hand finds a warm body. Relief floods her momentarily until she sees his dark, almost black hair, peeking out under the sheets. There's a man on the other side of the bed, but he isn't Francis.

"Your dauphin died years ago, don't you remember?" The man's gruff voice calls out and she jumps out of bed as if there was a snake in front of her. "Go back to sleep, you crazy cow." And then he promptly turns back around.

Her chest is tight with fear as she thinks that this all must be some cruel joke. Who is that man, and why was he in bed with her, did he drug her? and _Francis_, what will Francis do when he finds out? God what is going on?

Her mind flies with horrible possibilities as she screams for help, ignoring the man's yell for her to shut up already. She walks back to the far corner of the room, until her back collides with the wall. She realizes she doesn't know these rooms; they're too dark, strange. She doesn't understand anything.

"Guards please!" She screams ever more passionately as the man throws the covers off and gets out of bed.

"Will you shut up already?"

And finally two men rush in, swords at the ready.

Yet when they see her alone, shaking in the corner, no one there but the man and herself, they lower their swords, looking around for the source of danger as if it wasn't right in front of them.

She's breathless and her throat feels raw as she orders them with shaky words, but once the man mumbles something about the Queen having another of her attacks, they promptly sheath their swords again.

"No! What are you doing? I'm ordering you to get this man out of my chamber! Where am I? I can pay you whatever he is paying you ten fold!" They look at her with something akin to pity, and she feels her resolve crumbling.

"Who is this man? Please, find Francis. Get my husband!"

"Excuse me, your Grace?" One of the guards looks at her, truly lost. "But he is right there." He says, nodding towards the dark haired man she woke up next to.

And it all suddenly seems so much worse, he can't be her husband. She's married to Francis, and their marriage could never be annulled, and, and…

"My husband! Francis de Valois, the dauphin of France!" She needs for them to help her, for Francis to come. She's never felt as helpless as she does now, in her thin nightgown, in a room she's never seen, with guards who are of no use and a man who horrifyingly claims to be her husband.

"Can one of you tell her this time? She surely won't believe me." The man says, pulling on a robe.

A guard nods, looking at her as if she is a pitiful animal that has been trampled on by a horse.

"Your Grace, I'm sorry, but King Francis passed away years-"

She stops listening. She brings her hands up to cover her ears, knowing as he utter the words that somehow they are true, that they are reality even if she can't remember the when or the how.

The man dismisses the guards, and the obey him, leaving the room quietly. He turns around, a look in his dark eyes, mocking and hurtful.

She sinks down on the floor, sobs rocking her body freely now.

"Francis! Francis!" She screams as loud as she can, but it makes no sound. "_Francis!_" Saliva is thick in her mouth from her tears, and she barely has enough breath to scream. "**_Francis!"_**

She wakes up with a start. Bright light comes in through the windows of her bedchamber and she recognizes the awful nightmare she just woke from, the details already fading in her mind. She wipes warm tears of her eyes, only to discover she's naked beneath the sheets.

Of course. Because Francis came back from Calais today, and they just made love, over and over again, and they fell asleep.

She extends her hand to his side of the bed and finds nothing but empty sheets. She clutches the covers to her chest as she sits up, turning to scout the room, but her husband is not here. A senseless fear wants to clutch at her throat, but she forces it down.

"Francis?" No answer. He isn't here and even though she knows it was all a dream her heart still beats like a hammer against her ribs.

Her door opens suddenly, and her husband walks in, an easy smile on his face.

"Francis." She sounds relieved even to her own ears, and he looks up.

"My love." He smiles and her heart squeezes, "I went to see Bash and you looked so peaceful I didn't want to wake you. He was a bit cross, you know? You've kept me to yourself and…." He walks closer, and then a worried frown comes over his features. "Mary, is there something wrong?"

"Uh? No." She hastily wipes the remaining tears of her cheeks. "No."

"Were you crying?" He sits down on the bed, his thumb on her cheek.

"I just had a nightmare. It's nothing." She tells him, feeling silly about worrying him over a bad dream, when he just came back from war.

"Mary." He says tenderly as he kisses her forehead. "Do you want to tell me about it? What was it about?"

"You."

"Me?"

"The English were coming for me, and I couldn't find you and…and then I woke up, but I…I didn't wake up at all and…there was some man who said he was my husband but it wasn't you-"

"Hey, Mary, love," he takes her cheeks in his hands, a calming reassurance that she's missed the past months so keenly. "It's all right. It was just a nightmare. You're not going to lose me.

I came back to you, didn't I? I'm here. And I'm never going to leave you." He looks into her eyes, the bright blue clearing away any trace of her nightmares like the sun after a storm, until she barely remembers a few fleeting images of darkness and despair, that have no place in their bed or in their life, not now and not ever.

"I know." She tells him, trailing her nose softly against his before pressing their foreheads together.

"It was just a bad dream."


End file.
